Today is my mum's birthday. Usually, we would celebrate at my parents', eating many-coursed home-cooked meals prepared by our father, with kids running around. But this being 2020 coronavirus era, we called to wish her a brief happy birthday before the conversation turned to talks of immune-boosting supplements and avoiding all unnecessary ventures outside.
We recorded our first case in the country last week. Went to bed as per usual on Monday night and woke up to a Corona Tuesday, a French man has brought in the virus, they said, like he was a spy or a foreign conqueror snuck up on us with a night raid. Panic ensued. News of hour-long queues at supermarkets. When interviewed, a shopper in a store admits to not even looking at the prices of the items he was hoarding. Or stopping to consider the immediate necessity of the items he had chosen to fill his trolley with, or so I wish. In these strange times, these are the items we rush out to buy at the announcement of a first COVID case, in no particular order:
- petrol
- meat
- flour, noodles, bread and similars
- potatoes
- toilet paper
The evening news presented a man apprehended at the police station, sitting with his back to the camera, admitting to sharing fake news that ultimately led to the mad rush for petrol. He worked with a guy who knew a guy who was married to a woman who worked for the government, a credible source for news about the petrol stations closing by 11am. He was the butterfly flapping its wings that started the storm across the city. Now ready for a stern telling off and a fine equivalent to some thousand units, with a unit in this case being equal to 1000 tugriks. The need for an additional symbol / cryptic phrase to refer to money, in itself a symbol, always baffled me.
The petrol rush and the toilet paper crisis were explained by Singaporean researchers as follows:
A few days gone by, the initial panic has subsided somewhat. All those that came in contact with the Frenchman have so far tested negative. Seeing as he is the only one to get sick, we are coming to our senses a bit with most ready to accept that it was not his intention to contract the virus in the first place. It was bound to happen sooner or later, many realize. After all, we held out for so long largely thanks to our lackluster tourism industry, ever-decreasing travel budget of the middle class and fickle investment environment.
Imagine if patient zero was Chinese, some propose. Or worse, a Mongolian. The Frenchman can always return home to escape the madness and anger. A Mongolian would have to migrate, outcast, flu-ridden, off to scramble for toilet papers elsewhere.
We recorded our first case in the country last week. Went to bed as per usual on Monday night and woke up to a Corona Tuesday, a French man has brought in the virus, they said, like he was a spy or a foreign conqueror snuck up on us with a night raid. Panic ensued. News of hour-long queues at supermarkets. When interviewed, a shopper in a store admits to not even looking at the prices of the items he was hoarding. Or stopping to consider the immediate necessity of the items he had chosen to fill his trolley with, or so I wish. In these strange times, these are the items we rush out to buy at the announcement of a first COVID case, in no particular order:
- petrol
- meat
- flour, noodles, bread and similars
- potatoes
- toilet paper
The evening news presented a man apprehended at the police station, sitting with his back to the camera, admitting to sharing fake news that ultimately led to the mad rush for petrol. He worked with a guy who knew a guy who was married to a woman who worked for the government, a credible source for news about the petrol stations closing by 11am. He was the butterfly flapping its wings that started the storm across the city. Now ready for a stern telling off and a fine equivalent to some thousand units, with a unit in this case being equal to 1000 tugriks. The need for an additional symbol / cryptic phrase to refer to money, in itself a symbol, always baffled me.
The petrol rush and the toilet paper crisis were explained by Singaporean researchers as follows:
"The rush for toilet paper and other necessities in the face of COVID-19 is a natural behavioural response to the loss of psychological control," said Yap.Business Insider addressed the why and how of the toilet paper crisis.
A few days gone by, the initial panic has subsided somewhat. All those that came in contact with the Frenchman have so far tested negative. Seeing as he is the only one to get sick, we are coming to our senses a bit with most ready to accept that it was not his intention to contract the virus in the first place. It was bound to happen sooner or later, many realize. After all, we held out for so long largely thanks to our lackluster tourism industry, ever-decreasing travel budget of the middle class and fickle investment environment.
Imagine if patient zero was Chinese, some propose. Or worse, a Mongolian. The Frenchman can always return home to escape the madness and anger. A Mongolian would have to migrate, outcast, flu-ridden, off to scramble for toilet papers elsewhere.
This post first appeared on Asian Gypsy - All Things Mongolian, please read the originial post: here
